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Selections from the Poems and Plays of Robert Browning
img img Selections from the Poems and Plays of Robert Browning img Chapter 67 No.67
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Chapter 67 No.67

Not but that you know me! Lo, the moon's self!

Here in London, yonder late in Florence,145

Still we find her face, the thrice-transfigured.

Curving on a sky imbrued with color,

Drifted over Fiesole by twilight,

Came she, our new crescent of a hair's-breadth.

Full she flared it, lamping Samminiato,150

Rounder 'twixt the cypresse

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